


A Familiar Face

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Episode Related, Episode: The Magnus Archives Liveshow, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, mutual crush, rating is for swears, spoilers for the liveshow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR THE MAG LIVESHOW!!!On Jon's first day at the Magnus Institute, he meets a cute, smiling librarian, and promptly forgets his name. It probably doesn't matter anyway. It's not like he'll ever see the guy again.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 46
Kudos: 323





	A Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I'm not planning on posting a Friday fic every week of the hiatus, but I couldn't pass this one up.

On his first day working at the Magnus Institute, Jon uses his lunch break to familiarize himself with the building, wandering up staircases and down hallways, peeking into offices and other departments so that his world is not entirely constrained to the limited expanse of the Research floor.

He finds the canteen quickly enough, the closest bathrooms, the various emergency exits. He is politely but firmly turned back at the door to Artifact Storage, with a warning that venturing inside is not for the faint of heart. The Archives are temporarily closed, as the Archivist is out on business (Jon cannot imagine what sort of business would take an Archivist out of her Archive, but he's not about to go questioning something like that on his first day), but he lingers at the top of the staircase for a moment anyway, peering down into the gloom.

He saves the Library for last.

It's a large place, taking up an entire floor of the building on its own. Row upon row of neatly-organized texts line the shelves, spines shining new or cracked with age. It's a bibliophile's dream, and Jon pauses in the doorway, eyes wide and breath catching in his chest, just to admire it. It is _ beautiful. _

Someone clears their throat off to his left, snapping him out of his daze. He looks over.

The circulation desk sits against the wall nearby, polished mahogany, ancient and dignified. The dark wood is well suited to the low light in the room, amplifying the sensation of stepping back in time that Jon has been feeling. The whole place is straight from the eighteen hundreds, probably unchanged since the founding of the Institute.

The bright yellow jumper of the attendant is in stark contrast to the rest of the scene, and Jon blinks twice before managing to pull his eyes away and look up at the guy's face. He gives a little wave.

"Hello! Anything I can help you with? You look a bit lost." He finishes the statement with a slight chuckle, and for some reason, it doesn't feel mean. Usually Jon would think he was being mocked for the awestruck look he must have been sporting when he first walked in, but this laugh just feels... friendly. Welcoming. Slightly nervous.

So Jon smiles back, and walks over. "I am a bit lost, to be honest," he says. "It's my first day here, I'm just trying to get used to the place."

"Oh! First day in the Library, or...?"

"No." Jon shakes his head. "I'm a researcher."

"Oh, that's exciting!" The guy crosses his arms on top of the desk, leaning forward. His eyes are bright with enthusiasm behind his glasses, and Jon can't help but notice how it makes his whole face light up. "Bit busier than up here, I'd wager."

"A bit." He hasn't had terribly much work yet, but he's seen his new colleagues switching rapid-fire between phone calls, paper documents, and online research. They're dedicated to getting the truth of the stories that land on their desks, even if Jon holds some private doubts about how true most of those stories might be. "Quiet enough I've got time to explore."

"Well then, would you like the tour?" The guy gestures with one arm, taking in the entire Library in one fell swoop, and yes, actually, Jon would quite like to delve a bit deeper into this wonderful place.

"If you've got the time."

"Yeah, showing people around is part of my job actually. This doesn't even count as slacking off." It's said with a chuckle, and Jon huffs out an amused breath in response as the guy walks out from behind the desk. He pauses for a moment in front of Jon, holding out a hand to shake. "I'm Martin, by the way."

"Jon," Jon says, and takes the proffered hand. The guy has a very nice grip, he notices, firm but not too tight, with soft, slightly dry skin that leaves a faint warmth on Jon's palm when he pulls away. He smiles at Jon again, eyes crinkling, and turns to lead the way into the stacks, and  _ oh. _

Oh, he's cute, isn't he?

Soft brown hair framing a round face, bright eyes and an easy smile. Even the glaring yellow of his jumper isn't enough to distract from just how charming the whole picture is, and Jon quietly curses himself for getting a crush less than five minutes after meeting him.

He's a  _ coworker, _ too, so it's not like it's appropriate to ask him out. Not that Jon  _ would,  _ anyway, they only just met, and Ma-

Ma...?

M...

Shit. He's already forgotten the guy's name.

"So there's reading desks over here for quiet study," M-something says. "You don't need to reserve them in advance, but we do ask that you don't leave any possessions unattended if you need to go look for a book. And if someone takes your spot, don't make a fuss about it, just sit somewhere else, there's more than enough desks to go around."

"There certainly seems to be," Jon says. The desks are lined up against the wall, with enough space between each to give the occupants privacy. Only a few are in use at the moment, silent figures hunched over thick texts or tapping away at their laptops.

The guy laughs. "Yeah, this place is designed for a lot more traffic than it ever really sees. It's been updated, though, and there's outlets along the wall if you need to plug in your phone or laptop. You're on the Institute wifi, right?"

"Yes," Jon confirms. "My supervisor gave me the login information first thing."

"Oh, good," the guys says, "sometimes they forget. It's a bit spotty, mind, but it's better than nothing."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jon says absently. His attention is decidedly  _ not  _ on the conversation, because however cute this guy is, books have always been and most likely will continue to be his first passion. He scuffs a foot along the floor as they walk, noting the track inset into the old floorboards. "Is there a rolling ladder to reach the higher shelves?"

"Hm? Oh, no." It's said with a fervent shake of the head. "There were one too many lawsuits from visitors who fell off or had a rung break on them. We've got stepstools for the high stuff, just find a librarian if you need to reach something."

"Good to know," Jon murmurs, slightly disappointed. Rolling ladders have a certain mystique to them that he adores, though he'd be loath to admit it out loud.

They continue the tour, Jon trailing along in the wake of the librarian as he points out the various sections: historical texts, scientific volumes, works in other languages, and so on. They pass a few other people working in the library, and the man in the bright yellow jumper smiles and waves at each and every one of them as they pass, calling them by name in his greeting. Unfortunately, none of them respond in kind, offering hellos without a name attached.

Well, it's not like he's ever going to see this guy again. It probably won't be a big deal that he doesn't know his name.

They complete their circuit of the Library just as Jon's lunch break is coming to an end, and he politely thanks the man for showing him around.

"It's no problem at all, Jon," he says, smiling, and Jon hates the fact that this guy remembered his name, knowing that he failed to return the courtesy. "I always enjoy showing this place off, it's nice to see it through new eyes. Makes me nostalgic for my first day here." His smile goes soft around the edges, and it is absolutely unfair the way it makes Jon's heart skip a beat.

"Well, I'm glad to give you the opportunity, then," he says, and barely holds back a wince. That probably sounded weird.

The guy just laughs. "Pleasure's all mine. Good luck with the rest of your first day, Jon."

"Thank you," Jon says, and turns to walk out the door. It's an abrupt exit, he knows, but he also knows he can't reasonably avoid a situation where he'd be expected to say the man's name back if he stays, and he really wants to avoid having to admit that he doesn't know it.

~~~~~

Martin knows he's being ridiculous. He knows he gets crushes easily, and he knows they tend to stick around far longer than they should, but it's still ridiculous that he's here, at work, daydreaming over Jon-from-Research when he's only seen the guy like five times. And only spoken to him twice.

But, well, he's a self-professed romantic, and there's not much  _ else  _ to do in the long hours he's trapped behind the circulation desk, so he keeps an eye out between the shelves for a brief flash of dark green from Jon's sweater vest and allows his heart to wander in fantasies of secret trysts between the tall shelves and confessions of long-buried feelings.

Not  _ that  _ long, of course, Jon's only been working here a couple of months, but it's enough fodder for Martin to spin into quite an elaborate tapestry of longing and love before he's pulled out of it by a student clearing her throat impatiently and pushing a stack of books across the desk at him so she can check them out.

She's been here before, working on some big research paper for a class, so he doesn't bother checking her credentials before he helps her with the books. It's against protocol, but Martin's been here for five years and he's learned to take shortcuts where he can.

Jon leaves the Library half an hour later, giving Martin a brief wave and smile as he goes, and Martin sighs happily as the doors shut behind him. It'll be a while before Jon's back, because there's very rarely a reason for any of the Institute's researchers to be in Library, but that's fine. Martin's pretty sure this crush isn't going away any time soon, and it's probably better for his heart, on the whole, to  _ not  _ see the guy all the time.

They talk a few more times over the years, Jon stopping by the desk to check out a book or ask Martin for help locating something, but for the most part their interactions are limited to polite nods as Jon enters or leaves the Library. Martin's not entirely sure Jon even knows his name, but the intermittent visits are enough to keep his small crush glowing bright as time goes by. He's not foolish enough to think anything will ever come of it, but that doesn't matter. It's fun to dream.

~~~~~

Jon is very bad with names and faces, and he has known this about himself from a very young age. So he keeps a list, scrawled onto a piece of scrap paper torn from an old notebook and stuffed into the bottom of his messenger bag.

It's short, just a few people, coworkers and recurring figures in his life that he thinks it's important to be able to recognize on sight. Over the years it grows and changes, simple descriptors replaced with names as he finally learns them. "Head of the Institute" becomes "Mr. Bouchard" over time, and eventually just "Elias." "Front desk" is quick to be crossed out and replaced by "Rosie." "Long hair glasses - prev. Art. Stor." is erased completely once he no longer needs a physical description to know her, and "Sasha" is written in its place. "Casual Friday - finger guns" is grudgingly replaced by "Tim" when the man forces friendship upon him. But, despite having been one of the very first people he met at the Institute, "colorful jumpers - library" remains, regrettably, nameless.

Jon looks for him at the circulation desk whenever he has an excuse to visit the Library, and he doesn't bother to be embarrassed at the way his heart leaps upon spotting him anymore. The guy's just... _ nice. _ He still remembers Jon's name, even though Jon has not once spoken his, and he's always quick to lend a hand when Jon needs help tracking down a rare text.

Jon's pretty sure it's just normal friendliness, not any special treatment for him in specific, but still. It's nice.

He is also  _ fascinated  _ by the man's collection of jumpers, though he'd never say that out loud. He'd swear he's never seen the same one twice, and he's been working here a  _ long time _ at this point. All of them are colorful, ranging from deep shades of forest green to bright pastels that rival even the original yellow in terms of glow-in-the-dark potential.

It's nice, Jon finds, to have someone to daydream about when his job gets too stressful. He's not serious about any of the daydreams, is well aware that he's constructed an unrealistic fantasy of the man completely disconnected from the actual living person, has no intention of ever getting to know him better and to see if the real thing lives up to his dreams, but that doesn't stop him. It can't hurt to dream, and it's a little spot of color in an otherwise quite dull life.

When Elias offers him the job in the Archives, Jon spares a brief moment to regret that he will have even fewer excuses than before to make his way up the stairs and visit "colorful jumpers - library."

~~~~~

This is not good. This is  _ not  _ good.

Martin hurries down the hallway, poking his head through every doorway he passes in the hopes of spotting a flash of fur or a wagging tail.

This is  _ so  _ not good.

He'd just been trying to say hi to the dog! He was going to say hi, give it a quick pet, and then slip through the door to the Archives and get settled into his new desk for his first day in his new position, and hope his new boss didn't look too closely at his CV if he decided to check his credentials.

Instead, the dog had slipped past him, and now Martin is desperately trying to find and catch it before it can do any damage to the fragile documents that are stored here. Or at least before his new boss arrives, because that would  _ not  _ be a good first impression.

One of the doors up the hallway has a light on, and he hurries ahead to it, hoping against hope that one of his new coworkers will be willing to assist him in his search.

He pokes his head around the door. "Hey, sorry, you haven't seen a dog, have you?"

The man inside glances up at him, and Martin experiences a shock of recognition. "I'm s- sorry, what?"

"Um-" Martin stutters, because... it's  _ Jon. _ Jon-from-Research Jon, cute Jon, Jon that Martin has had a crush on for approximately four years, Jon who he's never seen outside the Library before. "Uh, a  _ dog, _ a- a spaniel, I think."

"In- in general, or...?" Jon trails off, and Martin laughs slightly. It's been long enough since they'd last seen each other that he'd legitimately forgotten just how much of an effect this man has on him.

"No, in the Archives," he clarifies.

"Why would there be a  _ dog  _ in the  _ Archives?"  _ Jon's voice has turned stern, and that really shouldn't be hot, should it? Then again, Martin's got it  _ bad, _ and has for a while.

He shrugs "Oh, 'cause, well, I-"

"Who are you?" Jon demands, and Martin's heart drops.

He forces a nervous laugh. "Uh- M-Ma-Martin, I-" He'd always kind of suspected that Jon didn't know his name, but he'd at least thought he  _ recognized  _ him. They've met. They've talked. They've smiled at each other every time they crossed paths in the Library for the last four years. Has he really left that little of an impression?

Jon is still glaring at him, waiting for an explanation. "...And, 'cause... I... may have..." Jon's chair scrapes back as he stands, placing his hands flat on the desk and...  _ looming.  _ There's no other word for it. He's not exactly a tall man, but he is taller than Martin, and in the cramped space of this office it feels like a stark difference. "L-l-let him in?" Martin finishes, cringing slightly.

Jon looks baffled. "What? Why?"

"Oh-" He huffs. "Well, I didn't- I didn't  _ mean  _ to, you know, uh- I- we were outside, making... friends, and- and then- I, I had to come in, but-" He's stuttering, and he hates himself for it. "My hands were full, and, you know, the door's really heavy, so, so I had to use my foot, and then he just sort of," he takes a breath, "like, got past me..."

"Why were you coming into the Archives?" It's said like an accusation.

"Oh!" Martin had thought  _ that  _ was obvious, but... "Uh, I, I work here!"

Jon pauses. "No you don't."

Martin lifts an eyebrow. Maybe Jon  _ does  _ remember him from the Library, then, and the demand from earlier was just him finally getting around to asking for his name. It's a nice thought, and Martin thinks that he may be able to turn the conversation around, here, salvage the situation by asking if Jon has  _ also  _ been transferred to the Archives, showing a little bit of his excitement that they'll be working in close proximity to each other. Maybe he can make a joke about how it'll be confusing having  _ two  _ Jons working in the Archives, and how he wonders if their new boss will expect them to call him "Mr. Sims."

Then Jon continues. "I requested Tim, and I requested Sasha, and  _ you  _ are _ neither." _

The pieces click into place.

"Oh!" Martin says, and  _ oh, god damn it, _ that means he's got a crush on his boss. His very intimidating boss, who appears to be quite unhappy with him at the moment. _ "Ohh," _ he says again, for good measure. "Oh, you're... Jonathan... Sims, yeah." His voice trails off. "Um- Mr. Bouchard said I'd- I'd... be working for you."

There is a moment's pause where Jon frowns even harder, then he huffs. "Well, he didn't tell  _ me  _ anything about it!" It comes out extraordinarily petulant.

"He, uh, he said that um-" Martin falters under the force of that glare. "Well, he transferred me from the Library, so..."

There's no flicker of recognition in Jon's eyes. They narrow, considering him. "So I'm your boss," he says.

"I mean, I guess." Martin laughs a bit at that: it seems a fairly ridiculous notion, after years of acquaintance.

Jon smiles too, a narrow thing, but still a smile, and that is a  _ vast  _ improvement. "Which means that...  _ technically,"  _ he begins, and huffs a smug breath. "I have the power to...  _ dismiss  _ you... if this dog situation is not resolved  _ immediately." _

"I mean, yeah, probably," Martin chuckles, trying to keep that smile on Jon's face. It looks very good on him, which is not a thought he should be having about his new boss, but he doesn't care.

Jon's smile shifts back to a glare, and it finally hits him what he had actually said.  _ "Oh!" _ Martin blanches, can  _ feel  _ the blood drain out of his face, and he starts backing hastily toward the door. "Oh, yes! R-right, yes, sorry, uh- I'll- s-sorry!" He ducks out the door, takes a step, stops and leans back in to offer another hurried "S-sorry!" and then he's gone.

_ So, _ he thinks, once he's well clear of the office and back to checking doorways for a tell-tale tail,  _ turns out, Jon's a bit of a dick. _

That's probably too harsh, Martin  _ did  _ let an unattended dog into the Archives after all, but he's not feeling in a charitable mood after that emotional whirlwind. He's going to have to let this crush go, no matter how attractive Jon might be. It won't be good for either of them, let alone their coworkers, if he lets himself get emotionally invested in a man who didn't even recognize him after four years of acquaintance.

Heaving a quiet, slightly heartbroken sigh, Martin reluctantly abandons his idle daydreams of an office romance.

~~~~~

Jon feels calmer after the dog is found, and gently but firmly evicted from the Archives. He thinks the new guy might have bribed one of his friends from the Library to look after it for the day so he could take it home with him later. He doesn't care enough to investigate if that's true.

That was several hours ago, anyway, and Jon is trying to put it behind him as he drags himself away from his office and to the breakroom to see if anyone has stocked it yet, or if he'll have to add that to his ever-growing list of things to do.

He sighs, stretching as he stands from his chair, and grabs his mug. At the very least, he can get some more water. His throat is dry from trying to record statements all afternoon, and he's not even sure if a single one of them has worked. He may have to take Tim up on his suggestion of using a tape recorder.

He's glad Tim came to the Archives with him. Sasha too. He'd put in a request for both of them to be his assistants, but they could have declined if they'd wanted, and he was actually pretty surprised to find out that they hadn't.

It's good, though. The three of them made a highly effective research team, and he is sure they can transfer that dynamic over to the Archives and get the place up and running in no time.

Well...

Maybe  _ some  _ time, given the current state of it.

Jon's calculations had  _ not  _ factored in a third assistant. He doesn't really know what to do with this turn of events, now that it is here.

He sighs again, resigning himself to the fact that his thoughts are going to keep drifting back to the chaos of the morning, picking at the memory like a scab. He probably shouldn't have snapped at the new guy - Martin, his name is Martin, Tim had said it a couple of times while they were all cleaning up the mess and Jon had made a point to take note of it - but he had run into Jon's office at pretty much the worst possible time, and in the worst possible manner, that Jon can imagine. He isn't going to apologize for being a little bit on edge.

He's never...  _ enjoyed  _ the statements the Institute collects. The ones that aren't obviously inane piles of garbage have a certain  _ weight  _ to them that sends a shiver up the back of his spine any time they show up on his desk - his  _ old  _ desk - to research. Add to that his laptop malfunctioning on him, and the apparently insurmountable task of trying to organize the mess down here with no clue where to start, and he figures he can be forgiven for a loose dog being the straw that broke the camel's back, and turned it into a  _ very  _ bad morning indeed.

He's in a better mood now, though.

Martin... the guy looks familiar, but Jon can't quite place him. He figures he's probably seen him around the Library, given that that was apparently where he worked before getting transferred down here, but he can't shake the feeling that that's not quite right.

He's pretty sure the only person he'd recognize from the Library is the man he's affectionately dubbed "colorful jumpers - library." Maybe he and Martin know each other.

Jon fidgets with his mug as he gets closer to the breakroom. Would it be weird to ask if Martin knows the guy's name? Probably. Still, it's a consideration...

He rounds the corner, entering the breakroom to find Martin already there, and has to hold back a disappointed sigh. He'd hoped he could get out and back to his office without running into anyone.

Martin is standing at the counter, fiddling with a box of tea while he waits for an electric kettle to boil. He's got a dreadfully purple jumper on over the button down shirt he was wearing earlier, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

Alarm bells start ringing in Jon head, and he doesn't quite know why until Martin glances up at the sound of his footsteps.

His glasses catch the light, flashing bright for a second as he turns. His soft, brown hair frames his round face. His mouth lifts in an easy smile, friendly and warm even though Jon had threatened to fire him earlier, and-

Oh.

Oh no.

Martin  _ is  _ "colorful jumpers - library."

And Jon had made an absolute ass of himself that morning.

Oh, shit.

_ Well, _ he reflects,  _ at least I know his name now. _

"Hi Jon," Martin says, and yes, now Jon recognizes the kind voice. "I'm making some tea, do you want some?"

"That depends," Jon says cautiously. Does Martin also recognize him? He must.  _ He  _ is an observant person, unlike Jon, who didn't even recognize the guy he's had a crush on for four years just because he was in the wrong area of the building and wearing a different type of clothing. "How long d'you think it's been sitting in these cabinets?"

"Oh, I brought it from home," Martin says. "It's fresh."

Jon's heart is doing something strange in his chest, leaping with excitement and plunging in despair simultaneously, and doing a valiant job of shriveling in embarrassment at the same time. Still, he manages a nod. "If you don't mind sharing, that would be much appreciated."

"Sure thing!" Martin walks over to him, grabbing the mug from his hands, and now that he's not standing in front of them Jon can see he already has three lined up on the counter. He adds the fourth to the group, placing a tea bag inside it, and sits back again, fiddling with the box once more as he waits for the water.

Jon is not a brave man, especially when it comes to his own emotions. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, leans against a different counter, and steadfastly ignores the glances Martin shoots his way over the course of the next several minutes.

When the kettle clicks off, he checks the small refrigerator for milk, and the cabinets for sugar, and carries both over to where Martin is pouring the water. Martin nods in acknowledgement, and pushes Jon's mug toward him. He thinks Martin is watching his hands as he adds milk and sugar, and that, surprisingly, sours his mood even more. How can he care about how Jon takes his tea after what happened that morning? After Jon has failed to acknowledge that they've known each other for literally years.

He grabs his own mug while Martin is still spooning sugar into the other three, offers a brief "Thanks," and escapes back to his office.

Once inside, with the door shut behind him, he finally admits to himself the fact that has been itching at the back of his mind since he made the connection between Martin and the man with the jumpers: he is far,  _ far  _ too embarrassed about the whole thing to ever admit he recognizes him.

Which means, of course, he can never acknowledge the history between them - if it even is a history, and not just a crush he's blown out of proportion in his own head - and, more importantly, he needs to get over his crush  _ immediately.  _ Even beyond the fact that he's now Martin's direct supervisor, he can't exactly be going around mooning over the man after he'd so thoroughly dressed him down that morning.

So he will need to find a way to stop his heart from skipping a beat every time he sees the man in the colorful jumpers who has occupied his thoughts for four years straight.

He can do this.

Jon sighs, trying to lie to himself and pretend he's not a little heartbroken over the whole thing, and quietly abandons any daydreams he might have had of an office romance.


End file.
